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“Do it.”
I don't know what I was expecting, but when his lips pressed against mine, every thought and alien voice left my head. He opened me to him, his tongue delving deep into the cavern of my mouth as he moved to straddle me, his hips pressing me to the bed, his hands handcuffing my wrists above my head.
He pulled back only far enough to nip my bottom lip, then his tongue tangled with mine again, swallowing the tiny, helpless sounds he urged from me. He pushed my knees apart with his and settles between my legs, pressing hard and ready against me.
Light exploded through me, my hips lifting to him, my ankles locking behind as I strained closer to him, to the glow I could feel building between us. From his reticence, I expected it to be painful. But unlike Moira's brand on my palm, all I experienced was pleasure and a desperate need to feel his skin against mine.
He pulled away, and I sank into the mattress, aching for more.
“Wow,” I said. “I’m sorry I turned you down last time. Why did you let me?”
He cleared his throat and exhaled slowly. “Protecting you seemed to be the most important thing at the time.”
“And now? Do you still think that, or are you wishing that you’d just killed me and taken the stone back?” The voices in my head remain silent, but the weight of the new power still pulls me down.
“I think that there are enough creatures out there that want to do exactly what you did, that we need to learn more about it, and protect you in the meantime.”
I sighed and closed my eyes, thinking about the life I'd spent the last few years making for myself.
“Okay, Thorn. I know you're right. But tell me this. Who exactly is going to protect you and everyone else, from me?”
26
It had been almost twenty-four hours since I collected the final token. I held up my left hand and traced the remaining brand from Moira with one finger.
Some protector I was.
My stomach churned as I recalled the smell of burned hair and cooked wolf flesh. Intentional or not, I've officially declared war on the pack—and Kye. Avoiding it isn't an option anymore. Though, to be fair, Kye declared war on me when he disowned me and exiled me from the only pack I'd ever known.
Do I care if they hate me? Only as much as I care about ever leaving this house again safely. I know the power riding my body like a discount airline isn't going to let me die. But the people outside that white picket fence? Most of them don't even know what magic is. They don't believe in werewolves and witches, and demonic mobsters.
Or at least they don't believe it can hurt them. It's all stories and fantasy and fairytales.
But fairytales? They're the original horror stories. We pretty them up and turn them into animated love fests. Still, once you get to the point of them, everything is a hunger for power or immortality, or lust, or the consequences for all the above.
Thorn had gone to speak with Chastity, though I begged him to leave her be—and left me alone with my thoughts and the voices in my head.
The second mark he gave me was helping to keep me calm, but with the power on mute, I didn’t know what I could do or how to control it.
Control seemed far more important than removing them at this point. The word was out. Everyone and their wolf would be looking for them, but if I can control it, I can keep all the stones safe and out of any factions' hands.
Except Thorn’s.
I ignored the thought.
As good as getting the mark felt (along with most incredible sensations I’d ever experienced fully clothed) I needed to think clearly.
My panties threatened to melt at the memory, and I stopped myself. After all, Moira's shop was not far from here, and Thorn wasn't trying to have sex.
He was just saving my life—as usual.
But if that's what he brings when he doesn't care, I'm hardly surprised that Samara keeps returning for more. Or that she claims him like a favorite toy if any other woman enters the room.
Samara.
She hid the final piece with Moira instead of giving it to Thorn. Considering the timeline, they might even have been together at the time.
My stomach growled at me, ravenous after nearly twelve hours without food. I tested my strength, carefully sitting up and then swinging my feet off the edge of the bed and standing.
